


All the Time in the Galaxy

by miceenscene



Series: Shakarian - A Descent into Madness [11]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Afterlife, Australia, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Home, Mass Effect 2, Reunions, damn these two are slow movers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miceenscene/pseuds/miceenscene
Summary: “You’re dead,” Garrus said plainly.Shepard nodded.“And… since I’m here as well… I’m… dead too.”She nodded again.Garrus discovers that life after death isn't quite what he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ghost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/825044) by [theherocomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex). 



> This work is definitely inspired by Ghost by theherocomplex. I can't stop thinking of different afterlife AUs for Shakarian. And it's all their fault.

It probably said more about  _ Garrus _ than about anything else that this wasn’t the first time he’d woken up somewhere he’d never been before with no clue how he got there. Though he usually didn’t wake up on planets he’d never been to before. At least he assumed it was a new planet. He’d never seen a sky this particular shade of piercing blue before and it was about all he could see from where he was lying in some tall golden grass.

With more caution than usual due to his lack of armor--hadn’t he been wearing armor earlier?--he sat up and looked around. The blue sky went on for eternity, reaching down to brush against low brown mountains in the distance. The land was golden, interrupted by deep green trees with wide-spread branches. A warm wind blew through the grass, making it ripple and dance around him. The sun was setting towards the horizon, tinting the blue to orange. A buzzing sound seemed to come from the trees and he watched an insect lazily fly its way past him. Lacking for anything better to do, he turned to follow its path and his eyebrows raised.

Up the hill behind him was a house. Low and white washed with a wide covered porch that wrapped around all four sides. Flowers of all colors waved in an unorganized but well tended garden along the edges of the porch. The house was unfamiliar in shape, but the chairs scattered about the porch looked human in design. Where  _ was _ he?

He stood and walked closer, keeping his head on a swivel to look for someone, anyone. The front door was open, as were all the windows. White sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze. He moved around the porch, checking in the windows as he went. He saw an unoccupied living room with more human-design furniture, and a room with a wide wooden table and benches on either side. 

Around the back corner of the house was a massive garden. Plants in tilled, light brown earth grew in long organized rows. Small signs at the head of each row identified each type, asparagus and carrots and lettuce and many, many more. 

He froze when half-way down a row of okra he spotted a figure. They were bent over, tending carefully to one of the plants. From the angle, he couldn’t see their face or really much about them at all. Until the figure stood up and turned around to face him, shock appearing on their very familiar face.

“Garrus?” Shepard said, her voice low but loud enough to carry to him. How… no, he was hallucinating this. This had to be a dream.

He’d never seen Shepard like this. Her hair was loose, blowing in the breeze under her wide-brimmed hat. Her clothes were dusty, rugged, not a uniform in sight. And as she stepped up on the porch, he realized her feet were bare. 

She looked him over a moment, then smiled and reached out to touch his cheek. Her fingers were solid and calloused against his plates. She smelled like grass and warm earth. Spirits, this was real. She was real.

“Garrus,” she said again, sounding more certain this time. “It’s good to see you again.”

Logical conclusions started presenting themselves one after another and he found himself without a voice in the face of what he was now certain of. Shepard must have been able to read it on his face as she chuckled and stepped back.

“Why don’t you come in? You look like you could use a drink.” She opened the door and walked inside without waiting for him. At least this was familiar, following Shepard into the unknown. He could do that, put one foot in front of the other as long as it was behind her.

He stepped into what he guessed was some sort of kitchen, though it didn’t look anything like a kitchen he’d seen before, human or otherwise. Shepard set her basket on the table off to the side and pointed him towards a chair. He gratefully fell into the seat and watched her move around the room. 

She put a glass of ice water on the table and pushed it towards him. It wasn’t exactly the type of drink he really wanted right now, but it did look tempting. The outside of the glass had already gathered condensation, weeping down onto the rustic table top. So he slowly drank as Shepard started sorting through her harvest. Mid-sip, he realized that--and it was odd to think it but--he’d never had water that was so wet before. He looked from his glass to Shepard, who was watching him quietly.

“It’s a lot to take in, I know. It’s okay, take your time,” she said, softly. Her basket now empty, she put it out on the porch before sitting down across from him. Alright, time to face facts.

“You’re dead,” he said plainly.

She nodded.

“And… since I’m here as well… I’m… dead too.”

She nodded again. 

He’d been half-hoping that she had some other answer than the one he’d already arrived at. He let out a long breath and sat back in his chair, staring at the marred table top and trying to make sense of his conclusion. Shepard got up after a minute and returned with two tumblers and a bottle of whisky. She pushed a glass towards him. He gave her an odd look when she poured herself some as well and took a sip.

“Garrus, given what you’ve concluded--do you really think chirality matters anymore?” she said, dryly. 

“I suppose you have a point.” He picked up the glass and took a long sip. Like the water, it seemed to almost burst in his mouth, smokey and richer than anything he’d tasted before. Looking through the window outside, he realized that the colors were brighter, deeper than he’d ever seen before. This place was More. “So… is this… heaven?”

Shepard chuckled a little and regarded her glass. “Your guess is as good as mine. There’s not exactly a welcome committee to explain everything.”

He nodded. “How long have you been here?”

She thought for a long moment. “I don’t really know. Time’s kind of… different here. It just doesn’t seem to matter as much when you know that you’ll never run out.”

“Huh.” It was difficult to wrap his head around that. Not surprising, considering he was trying to grasp eternity.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Shepard said, slowly interrupting his dawning existential crisis. “How long has it been since I died?”

He hesitated since he knew she wasn’t going to like the answer. “A year and a half,” he admitted.

She gave him a hard stare for a moment then shook her head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Hell, Garrus. I figured I’d see you sooner or later, but you certainly didn’t have to rush.”

He returned her laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

She looked at him for a moment, an expression that he didn't recognize in her eyes. “You could never disappoint me,” she said, softly.

He dropped his eyes, feeling as though if he held her gaze any longer it might burn him. They sat in an easy silence for the next several minutes, sipping their whisky. He looked over her kitchen, observing the mismatched cabinets and shelves. Herbs were hanging to dry in the window, and colorful dishes were stacked by the sink.

“I never realized that you were so… rustic,” he mused, looking back to her finally.

She gave him a wry smile as she stood and waved him towards the back porch. She sat down in the swing and patted the seat next to her. Garrus sat down and looked over her garden as the sun set in front of them. There was something about this place that just felt… right.

“Most of this was already here when I showed up,” she said, nodding towards her plants. “But I have enjoyed gardening. You should see my pumpkins, even Ash is jealous.”

“Ash?” He looked at her, eyes wide. “She’s… she’s here?”

Shepard nodded. “Most everyone is. I saw Pressly not too long ago, I think. He has a cottage by the sea with his wife.”

“The sea?”

Shepard nodded. “Near that any of us can figure, you wake up wherever you considered home.”

“This is your home?” he asked, looking back at her.

“I guess, though I’d never seen this place in person till I woke up here.” She rolled her empty glass between her hands and glanced at him. “There was a travel poster I saw as a kid for Australia. It was all blue sky and golden grass… a house with a deep porch on top of a hill. And for a street kid with frozen toes in Vancouver, it seemed just about perfect. Guess I never changed my mind.”

She lifted her head and looked out over the land with a deep fondness in her gaze. It didn’t disappear when she turned to look at him.

“How about you?” she asked. “Where’d you wake up? Palaven?”

Here. He’d woken up here. And he knew it wasn’t because he considered Australia home. He’d known that the way he mourned for Shepard wasn’t typical for a lost commander, or even a lost friend. It’d gone far deeper than that. Though facing the truth now, he was a little intimidated of how deep it apparently went.

“Y-yeah, something like that,” he lied, turning back quickly to look out at the sunset.

Shepard was quiet for a moment. “Am I the first person you’ve seen here?”

He nodded. “Like you said… it’s a lot to take in.”

She hummed, and looked out at the landscape for a moment. “You know, if you wanted… you could stay here,” she suggested, decidedly not looking at him. He was sure she was trying to be ambivalent, to not put pressure on him, but Shepard could never do anything by halves. “I’m sure it’s not quite Palaven, but it’d be nice to have the company.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

An answering smile appeared on her face and she glanced at him. “Stay as long as you’d like. Don’t feel like you have to rush away.”

He relaxed back on the swing, leaning into the gentle rhythm. “Guess we have the time now, huh?”

“We have all the time in the galaxy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Garrus awoke some hours later with a start, breathing heavily. He looked around the dark room, seeking something--some _ one _ . The details were already slipping away from him as he tried to grasp them. A--a target that he had set out to hunt and had... hunted him instead. The rest slipped out of his fingers, replaced by the small quiet bedroom Shepard had said he could use and a lingering unease.

_ “You have a turian bed in your house?” he asked incredulously as she opened the door. _

_ “Is that what it is? I’d wondered,” she replied with a shrug. “Well, that makes this convenient. Take this room then.” She patted his shoulder and started walking back down the hall. _

_ “How long has this been here?” He waved a hand to the bed. _

_ She shook her head. “It was there when I arrived. Good night, Garrus.” _

Thankfully, Shepard obviously hadn’t put too much thought as to  _ why _ her home came with sleeping arrangements meant for other species. He hoped there weren’t other bits of damning evidence lurking in the afterlife, waiting to expose him. It wasn’t that he disagreed with the universe so much… he just wasn’t quite ready to face it. Much less face a Shepard who knew what he considered her to be.

He got up, a little unsure of what he should do now. On the  _ Normandy _ , he was often alone in the middle of the night. Human sleeping patterns were so strange, eight hours of continuous sleep sounded downright excessive. But the silence on board was restful in its own way.

Though the silence here was very different than the silence aboard the  _ Normandy _ . Namely that it wasn’t quiet at all. Low tuneless symphonies of insects came through the open windows; further in the house, a fan was running. He didn’t hear Shepard, not surprising as she was probably asleep.

He was immediately proven wrong when he stepped into the living room and saw her out on the porch. She was sitting on the front step, a green woven blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t really seem to be doing anything, just sitting. 

He winced as the screen door screeched when he opened it. So much for preserving the quiet. Shepard glanced at him when he sat down next to her.

“Trouble sleeping?” she asked.

He grunted, picking up a loose twig from the step beneath his feet. “I kind of figured that with everything else here being so pleasant, nightmares wouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

She hummed and nodded a little. “It gets better, or so I’m told… just need time to heal.”

“From what?”

“Life… and death.” She looked down at where the corners of the blanket were clutched in her hands. “Dunno about you, but I stumbled in here with a lot of damage from both.”

He hummed and tossed the twig out into the yard. “You have no idea,” he said, sounding more mysterious than he intended.

She looked over at him, her expression carefully neutral. It was a silent question, but also permission to ignore it at the same time. He’d lost count how many times he’d wished he could talk with Shepard about what was happening to him. Well… now was his chance, he realized.

“I died on Omega,” he said slowly, gauging her reaction. All he got was a slight raise of her eyebrows. “I… I’ve been--or I suppose, had lived there since you… you know,” he trailed off.

“What were you doing there?” she asked after a moment.

“Target practice,” he replied dryly. He was hoping to get her to smile, but instead her eyebrows dropped down into something severe.

“You joined a gang?” she asked, sounding a little bewildered.

“No--” he clarified quickly, urgently. He may have fallen off the bandwagon, but he didn’t fall that far. “No. Well… Not quite.”

“You… started a gang?”

“I think the correct term is vigilante squad.” That made her eyebrows jump back up. “Locals called me Archangel.”

She gave a short laugh. “Really?” There was something like pride in her eyes.

He nodded, enjoying the way she was looking at him. “I found other people who were also fed up with how Omega was running. So… we decided to do something about it.”

“Garrus, even  _ Liara _ could have told you that standing in defiance of the gangs of Omega is an express ticket to my doorstep.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, facing forward again. “I think perhaps that’s what I was looking for at the beginning.” He noticed her hands tighten their grip on each other. “But it became more than that. We… we were doing good. Making a real difference… or at least enough of a splash that we had the Blood Pack’s attention. Blue Suns too.”

“Wow,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. It’d been easy to forget in the day to day struggle of being Archangel just how impossible it was what they were doing. Especially since he’d come from Shepard’s team, the impossible was everyday with her.

“That’s what we were doing… at the end. Blood Pack was importing in corrupted red sand and so Butler, Sidonis, and I were infiltrating their shipping warehouse to blow up the supply. They weren’t supposed to know we were there until we were clear and the place was going up in smoke behind us. Obviously, that didn’t quite work out.”

“Were you watching your left flank?” she asked knowingly.

“Since I’m sitting here, you already know the answer,” he replied with a grin. She chuckled a little and shook her head. He frowned as he recalled the final fiery moments. “I hope they got out okay.”

“If they were good enough to be on  _ your _ team, I’m betting they got out just fine.”

He nodded a little. “And if they didn’t… do you think I could find them here?”

“Yeah. You can find most anything here if you look for it.”

They were quiet for a few moments, letting the noise of the night fill the space between them. 

“It’s odd to be on this side of it,” he mused after a while. “To know for certain that I’ll see them again at some point.”

Shepard nodded. “You feel almost macabre missing your friends, wanting to see them again, and knowing what you’re hoping for at the same time.”

“Exactly,” he sighed.

She was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. “I’m glad you’re here. I can’t say I wanted to see you  _ this _ soon, but it was ...too quiet without you.”

He looked over at her, finding that she was already looking at him with a sad smile in her eyes. “You were never far from my mind. I… found myself talking through strategies with you, wondering how you’d do it. Figured it was only a problem if you ever started talking back.”

She laughed, loud and sudden. He couldn’t help but puff with pride--he’d always liked her laugh. It was a rare treat to hear the real thing, even rarer to be the source of it. He grinned at her, leaning his elbows on the step behind him as she pulled herself back together.

“Did it help at all?” she asked when she’d recomposed.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Some, yeah. Had a very successful infiltration of a Blue Suns freighter about a month or so ago, borrowed your strategy from that Cerberus base on Luna.”

“What, shoot and don’t get shot?”

“Simple, yet effective.”

She chuckled and leaned back herself, her elbow brushing his. “Whatever works for you, _Archangel_ ,” she said, still smiling.

Her hand was right next to his, it’d be a very simple thing to just reach over and take it. He really wanted to. However, whether  _ Shepard _ wanted him to was the much more important question. And one he didn’t have the answer to, not even a clue.

His internal debate was immediately stopped when Shepard shifted and rested her head on his shoulder. Scents of flowers that he didn’t know the name of wafted from her hair. Oh, wow. In a move that was definitely braver than he felt, he moved his arm around her, fingers cautiously grazing her elbow. She moved in closer, her side pressed against his now.

“I missed you, Garrus,” she murmured, resting a hand on his knee and squeezing. And even though he had his arm around her right then, an old familiar wound inside him wept. He leaned over and rested his head on top of hers.

“I missed you too… so much,” he said, hoarsely. 

They were quiet, just watching over dark rolling landscape together and knowing that the other was finally beside them again. On the  _ Normandy _ , there had hardly been time to breathe, let alone sit and do nothing together like this. But it felt right.

It felt like home.


	3. Chapter 3

When Garrus had asked Shepard what she did most days and she replied ‘whatever the hell I want’, he hadn’t taken her seriously. But after almost a week of living with her, he learned that she was in fact completely serious. Every day was a little different, sometimes she didn’t leave the house, others she spent the entire day in the garden. One day, they laid side by side on the hill out front and watched large puffy clouds move slowly across the piercing blue sky for an entire afternoon. He wondered if this sort of slower pace would start to feel insufferable after enough time. But it never did, though perhaps that was more due to who he was spending the extra time with. 

It was almost hard not to stare at her at time. She just seemed to be nigh on radiant, she was so at ease here. Regulations and protocols and frustrations left behind made them both lighter than they’d ever been before. He was undeniably drawn to her, like a comet pulled into her orbit. And every metaphorical step he took closer to her, he found her already with him. Even death couldn’t put them out of sync.

“Are you ready for this?” Shepard said, waving her empty bottle and grinning at him.

“I was born ready,” he replied, swapping the heat sink on his rifle. They’d been out in one of the fields all afternoon, first for a picnic beneath the gum tree. Which had dissolved into a friendly debate about who the better shot was and now, several dozen broken bottles later, they still didn’t have a definitive answer as they were tied.

She threw the bottle high up into the air and though the breeze was kicking up, he shot it easily. He smirked at her.

“You should at least  _ try _ to make it a challenge,” he drawled, enjoying the glare she shot at him.

Her reply was interrupted as thunder rolled in the distance. “Look at that,” she said instead, pointing behind him. Dark storm clouds were building closer to the horizon. “Do they have thunderstorms on Palaven?”

He shook his head. “Not like that.” The clouds seemed to hang low to the ground, yet built upon themselves to tower into the sky. He’d never seen clouds like that before, they almost seemed heavy. 

“We should head back. We can watch it from the porch,” Shepard said, bending down to toss the blanket back into the empty basket.

Garrus picked up the guns and followed after her back towards the house. She gave him a quiet sideways smile as he took her hand in his. The first time he’d been very surprised at how easily they found a fit between five fingers and three. Now it was almost old practice, though she did always give him that quiet smile every time. 

They fell in step with each other, arms swinging between them, as the thunder rolled again. They both looked behind them. The storm was blowing in fast and the temperature was already dropping.

“I think we’re going to have to run,” he said, watching lightning flash inside the clouds. Shepard laughed and started running, still not letting go of his hand. They dashed towards the house as the rain started pouring. By the time they reached the garden, they were both drenched. Lightning cracked and thunder shook the window panes as they jumped into cover on the porch.

Shepard set down the basket and squeezed water from her hair as they watched a curtain of rain pour around them. The plants waved wildly in the wind. Even the trees in the distance were bending and swaying rapidly.

“I love watching thunderstorms,” she said, a note of awe in her voice.

He hummed and almost nodded--but he stopped. Something felt… off, was all he thought before suddenly it felt like his chest was on  _ fire _ . Raw pain tore through him, scorching and consuming. He cried out and fell to his knees, grabbing at his carapace and gasping for air. Dimly, he was aware that Shepard was yelling for him, but all he heard was blood roaring in his ears and the rain. 

And then as suddenly as it came, it stopped. Sound and feeling and everything returned to such abrupt normality that it was almost more shocking than the departure from. He fell further forward and wound up crashing against Shepard as she was kneeling in front of him.

“Garrus! What’s happening??” she demanded, gripping his shoulders and sounding very distressed. “Talk to me, Garrus!”

“'M here…” He took a deep breath, and rested his head on her shoulder as he pulled himself back together. “I’m--I’m fine.”

She was quiet for a moment, then her hand pressed to the back of his neck. There was a slight tremble to her fingers. “Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah, I think so.” Reluctantly, he sat back though she didn’t let him out of her reach. Deep concern was written in every inch of her face.

“What happened?”

He shook his head and ran a hand across the front of his carapace. “I don’t know… it suddenly felt like…” He stopped, trying to put a finger on what the pain had felt like. There was something almost familiar about it. Once as a kid, he’d taken apart a computer without unplugging it first. It was like that, but much, much worse. “Like twenty thousand volts just ran through my chest.”

The frown on her face grew deeper still.

“Maybe it’s something else I still need to heal from,” he said, half-joking. A flicker of something that was gone too fast for him to identify appeared on her face. And instead of replying, she pulled him back towards her, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Don’t do that again,” she said, also half-joking. But the urgency in her tone undercut any humor.

“I’ll try not to,” Garrus replied, winding his arms around her middle and pressing a hand to her wet hair. 

“It was like you were--” She didn’t finish the sentence, but he knew it anyway. He’d thought much the same. But it wasn’t possible to die here… wasn’t it? Where else would he go?

Shepard was obviously thinking much the same thing as he was as she held him tighter still. He decided in that moment that he wasn’t going to be separated from her. Not again. He didn’t care what Fate had to say about it; he, Garrus Vakarian, had made up his mind. So he pulled her closer into his lap, tucking his face into her hair. And the two of them held each other through the storm.


	4. Chapter 4

Garrus and Shepard were quiet and watchful for the next day, never far from each other’s sight and rarely out of each other’s reach. They wound up spending the night on her couch, curled around each other like cats. He slept with his arms about her middle, his head on her chest. Though when he awoke before dawn, he was alone.

He got up and wandered through the house, looking for her. A cursory glance around proved that she wasn’t inside, so he headed outside. The air was thick with another incoming storm. He found her on the back porch, sitting on the swing with the green woven blanket around her shoulders. She gave him a wan smile as he let the screen door snap shut behind him.

“So I have a theory… about your… episode,” Shepard said as he sat down next to her.

“Yeah?” Garrus slipped his arm behind her, pulling her against him.

She glanced up at him. “Maybe you’ve been here too long.”

He gave her a half-smile. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Shepard?” he teased.

“No! No,” she insisted. She scooted forward and turned back to look at him, worry and determination in her eyes. She was very serious about this, he realized. “Just… I don’t think I’ve ever stayed with Ashley or Pressly as long as you’ve stayed with me. None of us really know the rules of this place, so maybe you… need to go home, at least for a little while.”

It was a solid theory, even if he knew it was wrong. It was past time for him to come clean. He reached forward to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Shepard--” he started.

“If you want, I could come with you?” She floated the idea cautiously, as if she was afraid he wouldn’t want her around. “I was always curious what Palaven looked like… and this way I won’t even need a radiation suit.”

“Shepard,” he said, stopping her justifications. He waited until she was looking at him to speak. Then he steeled his will and shook his head. “I didn’t wake up on Palaven.”

She frowned. “Where’d you wake up then?”

He looked at her for a long moment, then finally said in a voice just above a whisper, “Here. I woke up here.”

Understanding rolled across her face like the storm sweeping in. “ _ Oh _ .” She turned to look out at the dark landscape, and though he could only see the curve of her cheek, he could easily see her surprised expression. “I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He dropped his hand, folding them in his lap to keep them from flapping about nervously. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t know either un… until you died.”

“Garrus… if you knew this, what were you waiting for?”

“For something to go wrong,” he answered too honestly. He shook his head; he wanted to pace but he didn’t want to leave her side still. As if to compensate, his words started coming out of him in a rush. “I didn’t want to put pressure on you, and I still don’t. Last you saw me, I was just a friend and a member of your crew. And if you only see me as your friend, I-I completely understand--”

Suddenly her fingers were resting on his mouth, silencing him for the moment. Then she replaced her fingers with her soft lips and he was rendered absolutely speechless. She kissed him gently, her fingertips brushing his mandibles. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into her, wanting the moment to never end. But she pulled back, though she didn’t pull away.

“If it makes you feel any better… I didn’t know until you left the  _ Normandy _ ,” she whispered, only a hair’s breadth of space between them.

“Really?” he breathed, his eyes wide.

She gave him a lopsided smile. “I know what a turian bed looks like Garrus.” She leaned back finally. Uncertainty looked out of place on her face. “I didn’t want to scare you that your old commander already had a room specially ready for you in her afterlife. I wasn’t lying when I said it came with the place.”

“Ah… yeah, tha--that makes sense.” He nodded a little, looking down at his lap. Well, this wasn’t what he was expecting at all. 

They were quiet for a moment and then she breathed a laugh. “I guess we’re both idiots, huh?”

“Me more than you,” he replied, looking over at her. “At least you put it together when there was still time.”

She looked over at him. “Well… we have time now.” She smiled a little.

He smiled back. “Yeah, we do.” He slipped his hand into her hair and pressed his forehead against hers. Her fingers grazed his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Spirits, was this actually happening? She tilted her head to kiss him again, soft and gentle. He reciprocated as best he could, following her motions and relishing how intimate the novel sensations felt. Thunder rolled in the distance. Slowly, she broke off the kiss. He realized that they were both breathing heavily. 

“We don’t have to rush anything…” she whispered, nuzzling his forehead with hers. “But will you stay with me tonight? I want to wake up next to you.” Her green eyes filled his vision, softly pleading.

“Of course.” He kissed her again, holding her close to him. He’d stay by her side as long as she wanted him.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing up. She took his hand in hers and pulled him back to standing. Lightning flashed across the dark sky and thunder immediately followed, the storm had finally arrived. Rain pattered loudly on the roof as he followed her to her room.

Shepard laid down and pulled Garrus into her arms. He was surrounded by her scent, her touch. She pressed gentle kisses on his mandibles as her hands trailed along his neck. She wanted him. Him! Like he wanted her. A deeply content purr rose from his chest--he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

But then he stopped. Something felt off--and he gasped sharply as the pain returned. Bright and searing, it was worse this time, more, longer. He let out a piercing cry as he pressed his face into the pillow over Shepard’s shoulder. It felt like every nerve in his body was set ablaze.

Then suddenly, he felt something he hadn’t felt since he woke up in the front yard--his heart pumped in a solid beat.

“Shepard,” Garrus gasped as the world grew dark around him. And he knew no more.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing he heard was the steady beeping of a heart monitor. Then he smelled the unmistakable acidic scents of antiseptic and medigel, with the dulled copper scent of blood underneath both. A cold breeze blew across his face from a poorly maintained circulation vent.

Carefully, Garrus cracked open an eye, then the other. For a moment, the world remained out of focus, swirling colors of white and grey and orange.

“Hey, he’s coming around,” a familiar voice said next to him. “Hey, boss.”

Garrus blinked a few times and a turian face came into focus, Sidonis. He was smiling, relieved subvocals emanating loudly.

A human appeared behind Sidonis, Butler. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said with a grin.

“And we do mean that literally,” Sidonis added. “The doctor said you were dead for about a minute there.”

Garrus frowned at them, everything felt a little soft around the edges. Did Sidonis just actually say what he thought he said?

“You were nearly gone by the time we got you to the nearest clinic. Gave us a real scare,” Butler said, solemnly.

“Yeah, but we couldn’t let you check out just yet. There’s still a lot of work to do.” 

“And don’t worry about the job, Weaver and Vortash took care of it.” Butler winked.

A new face, one that Garrus didn’t know, appeared at the foot of his bed. An older salarian with a broken horn opened his omnitool and started scanning him.

“Time for jobs later. Must heal first,” the doctor said, pointedly looking at Garrus’ squadmates. Taking their cue, they both nodded to Garrus and stepped away. 

Garrus glanced around now, he was in some sort of ward. There were other beds here, though only one other one was occupied. He turned back to the doctor who was nodding at the readouts on his omnitool.

“I… died?” Garrus said, cautiously, incredulously.

“Yes. Dead for fifty-four seconds,” the doctor said bluntly, waving his free hand absentmindedly. “Suffered blood loss, heavy trauma, second-degree burns and large lacerations on left side.” He inhaled deeply and closed his omnitool. “Lucky to be alive.”

“I guess so,” Garrus replied, wondrously. Spirits, he wasn’t usually this lucky.

“No further surgery required. Full recovery expected. Back to job faster if focus on healing now.”

Garrus guessed that was the doctor’s gentle suggestion that he go back to sleep and even if it wasn’t, sleep sounded perfect right now. He nodded and closed his eyes again, hearing the salarian doctor walk away after a moment. It wasn’t long before he slipped back into blessed unconsciousness. And he dreamed of a woman standing in a golden field, a green woven blanket around her shoulders as a thunderstorm rolled in overhead.


	6. Chapter 6

For the next six months, every time Garrus slept he dreamt of the same thing. He was haunted by the sight of the woman in the golden field. As the weeks wore on of continual repetition, he began to go a little stir-crazy. No matter how fast he ran he couldn’t reach her, no matter how loud he called she never turned. The storm overhead never grew closer. He half-wondered if he was staring at a painting for hours instead of dreaming. But occasionally the breeze would ripple through, disturbing the grass and making the woman’s red hair wave gently. 

He wondered what it meant, besides the fact that apparently he had finally truly lost it. He knew the asari and even humans had beliefs about dreams being warnings or prophecies. Turians had no such mythology. He bravely asked Vortash at one point if batarians had any such superstitions. However, he looked at Garrus like he had sprouted an extra set of eyes so Garrus quickly changed the subject and never brought it up with anyone else. No faster way to break a team’s morale than to plant the seed of doubt in their commander.

So that left him alone with his puzzling dream. He never saw the woman’s face, but Garrus could still hazard a guess as to who the woman was. He didn’t know many red haired human women. And only one well enough to dream about her night after night. It was a little embarrassing to be dreaming about her, especially almost two years removed from her death. Why now? Why her? It was already shameful enough to be grieving the loss of potential, hers and theirs. 

Not that there was much actual potential there to begin with. But some part of him had hoped that when they met again later, on hopefully more equal footing, he could… well, he hadn’t let himself plan that far yet. Maybe drinks. Maybe dancing, dinner… until death did they part. But that last bit was never to be mentioned, even to himself. Especially now that it wouldn’t ever be.

All together he shouldn’t be ungrateful, Garrus finally decided after months of seeing her nightly. With everything he’d been through, he was damn lucky that the puzzling scene was the only thing he saw in his dreams. He noticed the haunted looks in his team members’ eyes in the early hours. There was nothing to do but hand them their chosen morning beverage and press on for a better day tomorrow. 

Though those days were few and far between. A hit on a Blue Suns bunker had gone nearly completely sideways. Everyone made it out, thankfully, but only just. After seeing his team safely to their quarters, Garrus was about to fall asleep standing up. He managed to peel off his armor and drop onto his own very uncomfortable bed. He drifted off, looking forward to the quiet harbor of the woman and the field. He needed it after a day like that.

Garrus woke up lying down in the tall golden grass, as he always did. Leisurely, he stretched, enjoying the way his muscles didn’t ache here, nothing at all hurt here. The field was always peaceful and strangely comforting. He listened to the unfamiliar insect noises for a few moments before sitting up. Then he checked over his shoulder and frowned. The field was still there, the storm still brewed in the sky. But the woman was gone. 

He quickly rose to his feet, looking all around as if he’d just misplaced her. There was nothing but gently waving golden grass as far as the eye could see.

“Hello?” he called out. There was no response. “...Shepard?”

His plates suddenly felt uneven and he couldn’t figure out why for a few seconds. Till he realized: the insect noises had abruptly stopped. All noises everywhere had suddenly stopped. The silence was absolute, all consuming. He took a step through the grass, even that didn’t make a sound. He tried to call her name out again. He could feel the breath leaving his throat, but no utterance met his ears.

Now on edge, Garrus checked over his shoulder that he was still alone before walking towards where the woman was usually standing. He pushed aside the grass, checking for signs of a struggle or any clue at all as to where she’d gone. After a few minutes of searching, he found something. It was the green woven blanket that she always had around her shoulders, crumbled as if she’d just dropped it. He knelt down and reached towards it, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over and a turian face leered at him.

“Sidonis?” Garrus asked, finally hearing his voice though it sounded groggy to his own ears. Sidonis shook his shoulder and Garrus had the distinct feeling that he was suddenly lying down. He blinked and the field was immediately replaced with his dark bedroom on Omega.

“Boss? Hey Boss?” Sidonis whispered, still shaking his shoulder.

Garrus groaned, feeling like he hadn’t slept nearly long enough. “What is it, Sidonis?”

“Sorry to wake you, but it couldn’t wait.” Sidonis stepped back, he almost seemed to be vibrating with excitement. “I just found a lead on a job. There’s an Eclipse smuggling deal going down in a couple hours. It’s too much for me to handle on my own, but for the two of us, it would be no problem.”

Garrus blinked a few times, running a hand over his face. Oh, he was  _ sore _ . “Yeah, yeah, fine. Is Butler awake or--”

Sidonis looked back over his shoulder towards the door. He seemed hesitant for some reason. “I mean, I could go check. But I wouldn’t want to wake the whole team after today. I just caught wind of this on the scanner, and it’s kind of small time. No sense in ruining everyone’s sleep.”

“Just mine then.”

He grinned. “You know you’d be pissed if you missed out on a job.”

Something didn’t feel right. Garrus just couldn’t quite figure out what. Perhaps it was just his suddenly different dream… and he certainly couldn’t tell Sidonis about that. So Garrus shook off the feeling and nodded.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Sounds good, boss.”

As he put his armor back on, Garrus set aside all thoughts of the missing woman. It was just a dream, nothing to waste brain power on. And besides, he had a job to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Garrus should have known, he thought as he swapped the heat sink on his rifle. He lined up his shot and waited for the merc to look around the corner again. They did after a moment and then with a twitch of his finger, they fell like all the rest. The field momentarily clear, he leaned back in his perch on the balcony and closed his eyes for just a moment. He was far too deep into an unhealthy amount of stims to actually fall asleep, but exhaustion still pulled at his joints, seeped into his muscles.

He should have trusted his instincts, he should have never listened to Sidonis, hell, he probably shouldn’t have let him join the team. Maybe he shouldn’t have even formed the team, he shouldn’t have come to Omega, he shouldn’t have left the  _ Normandy _ . He opened his eyes again and scanned the still empty bridge automatically.

It was very handy to have that one singular explosion to trace his current life path back to, even if it was immature to do so. It was just so much easier to pretend that every choice he’d made in the subsequent two years had been forced upon him by outside sources. In truth, he was every bit as much to blame for the ten dead bodies down in the living room as Sidonis was.

_ What would you have done, Shepard, _ he thought out of habit more than anything else. It’s one thing to purposefully leave a squadmate behind to die. What happened here was quite another. Though Shepard was such a person that Garrus had trouble imagining anyone turning on her, no matter the outside pressure. Not that Sidonis’ reasons mattered. He’d made his choices, the same as Garrus, the same as Shepard. And in the end, they all had to live with their decisions… or die by them.

The latter of the two seemed more likely for him. Garrus glanced over at his dwindling stockpile of supplies. He hadn’t had much to begin with, and after almost five days of continual battle he was running out. The only thing not running out was the supply of bodies the gangs found to chuck into his crosshairs. It was wasteful, the amount of life expended just to try and cross a bridge. If anything it proved to him that there was no getting out of this set up alive, not for Garrus. Just a matter of time before he decided he was done.

Seeing movement behind the barricades again, he double checked the heat sink in his rifle. Not yet, he decided. He could go for a few more waves still, make it a better story when he made it to the other side. Hopefully Shepard had saved him a seat at the bar. She’d like the story. Probably call him an idiot when she heard it, but maybe she’d smile too.

The first two mercs leapt across the barrier, firing poorly aimed shots for the balcony as they scattered to the cover on the bridge. Garrus focused on the merc on the left, ignoring the trio that jumped across after them. He lined up a shot, switching to a concussive round to take out the shields, breathing steady for one moment, finger ready on the trigger. And then the merc’s head blew out the wrong way with a shot from behind him.

Garrus glanced up from his scope for a moment, too tired to be truly surprised but heading that direction. The trio of mercs was clearing the field for him. He swung over to aim at them, quickly trying to gather what new type of enemy the gangs had found to throw at him. A biotic human man and woman on either side were carving a path through the mercs. Though the figure in the center seemed to be doing most of the heavy lifting. He dialed in on them.

Thunder rolled in the distance.

In shock, his finger spasmed on the trigger, shooting the concussive round straight at her. Her shields flickered but held strong. Bright green eyes flickered up towards him, momentarily narrowing in a familiar frustrated glare. H--how?

The trio advanced out of his sights and Garrus kept watch on the field behind them, his exhausted mind spinning so fast there was nothing to do but focus on the task at hand. There was one merc left, hiding behind a pillar like a coward. He heard the group arrive behind him.

“Archangel?”

Garrus held up a finger. Whoever--whatever was behind him was going to take a moment to sort out and he wasn’t going to let this merc get in a lucky shot in the meantime. He didn’t take time to savor the headshot or watch the body fall, just turned around to face the trio once the task was done. He pulled off his helmet, letting it drop unceremoniously to the floor as he stared at the impossibility standing in front of him.

“Shepard,” he said softly, locking his knees to remain upright. Even still he swayed in a non-existent wind. 

She looked incorrect in her N7 armor for some reason, but when had he ever seen in her anything but that or an Alliance uniform?

A bright smile split across her face. “Garrus!” Her arms opened wide as if she was going to hug him. And suddenly he had never wanted anything more in the entire galaxy. Though her arms dropped down before he could accept the offer.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking around a little and sounding thoroughly surprised.

“Target practice.” The answer felt familiar, like an old joke though he was pretty sure he’d never told it before. She chuckled once, the smile taking residence in her eyes as she crossed her arms.

He took one step towards her and at the exact same moment the whole building shuddered from an explosion far below.

“This place have a basement?” Shepard asked, quickly returning to just business.

He nodded. “There’s shutters that can be lowered to block their way. Entrance is down below the stairs.”

She nodded once then turned to her team. “Go check it out. I’ll stay here with Garrus, make sure no one comes up behind you. Radio if you need help.”

They nodded and disappeared back the way they came, if he was less tired he’d probably spend energy on wondering who her new companions were. But as it was, what little he had left was being directed at this… apparition. Shepard gave him a half-smile as she joined him near the balcony edge. He found himself staring at her the closer she came, unable to tear his eyes away as she knelt down next to him behind the balcony cover. She was… here. Actually here.

He watched her pull out her sniper rifle and scan the barricade across the bridge, every precise movement exactly like he remembered. Apparently satisfied that they weren’t in immediate danger, she looked his way now. There was a caution in her expression that looked wildly out of place.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, finally finding words that didn’t completely encompass most of his thoughts but they came the closest.

“I’m here for you. Have a new mission and I want you on my team.”

“Ye--fine, but…” He held her eyes for a breathless second. “What are  _ you _ doing here? How--?”  _ You’re supposed to be dead _ .

Her eyes dropped away from him, scanning the field for a moment before settling down on the gun in her lap. “Cerberus rebuilt me. Resurrected, reanimated--pick your term. But I guess I’m back.” There was a quiet anger in her words, tamped down by years of discipline and dedication to remaining calm in a dangerous situation. Her jaw was clenched when she glanced his way again. “I’m afraid I don’t have much more explanation to give you right now.”

He nodded and turned to face forward, as if he was also scanning the still empty field. Tense silence hovered between them, filled with unanswerable questions. The last time they spoke, it was supposed to just be a simple good-bye on the docks before the  _ Normandy _ departed, but it turned into an hour long conversation. It’d always been that way with them even from their first meeting. Words flowed effortlessly back and forth. But now… Well, two years was a long time. Spirits knew he wasn’t the same person he was the last time he saw her. And who knew what death had done to her?

Luckily a few more mercs appeared, giving them both something to focus on rather than the newfound distance between them. At this point, Garrus was working on more muscle memory than actual cognition as he fired shot after shot. So it was second nature to hand over a heat sink when he heard Shepard run out. She was even already reaching for it as he held it out. Her eyes met his for a brief moment as their hands connected solidly through the sink. They may have forgotten how to speak to each other, but at least they hadn’t forgotten this.

Her team radioed in having closed the shutters in the basement as Garrus and Shepard cleared the last of the merc’s from the field. “Good work. Rendezvous back up here,” she ordered over her comm, standing back away from the balcony.

Garrus rose creakily from his perch, joints groaning with every small movement, and joined Shepard. 

She gave him a concerned look as he tried to shake some energy into his muscles. “You going to be okay?”

“Let’s just say, I’m glad you showed up when you did.” He rolled out his neck, grimacing at the protestations of his spine.

“Can you keep it together for a little bit longer? We’re almost out of here.”

“Of course, Shepard. I’ll be right behind you.” 

A hint of a genuine smile appeared in the corner of her mouth and he returned it. Yeah, they’d figure this out again. Things would return to normal between them eventually. Maybe… maybe even better than normal, he hoped uncharacteristically. All they needed was some time.

And that was when the gunship appeared.


	8. Chapter 8

For a moment, Garrus savored the blissful lack of pain he was feeling. It’d become so constant over these past weeks, months--hell, years--that to finally get a reprieve was delightful. He then slowly opened his eyes, finding an impossibly blue sky overhead framed by waving tall grass. His gut clenched.  _ Wait _ .

He bolted upright, the landscape spreading out like an eternal pastoral quilt ahead of him. Golden grass and low verdant trees under a piercing lapis lazuli sky. Insects hummed quietly on the wind. Everything was peaceful. Everything was wrong.

He dared to look over his shoulder, hoping against logic that somehow he’d only managed to stumble back into the dream he’d been having. But there was the house still on the hill, a menagerie of vibrant flowers still scattered along the edge of the porch, the front door still open, the white sheer curtains still fluttering in the breeze. 

“Shepard?” he yelled, rising to his feet now and flat out running up to the house. Please.  _ Please _ . “Shepard!!” He jumped onto the porch, and burst through the front door into the living room. It was empty. No--nonononono. He sprinted through the dining room, the kitchen and then threw himself out the back door, stumbling to a stop at the edge of the back porch.

“Shepard?!” His voice echoed through the back yard. The chains on the porch swing squeaked a little as it rocked back and forth. The rows and rows of meticulously planned plants rustled slightly. Scents of tilled earth and warm grass met his nose.

And there was no one in sight.

Garrus grabbed one of the porch pillars for support as a wave of regret and anguish swept over him. Slowly, he sunk down till he was crouching, curled over himself and keening loudly. Of course.  _ Of course _ .  _ Of-fucking-course _ .

Of course he’d only realize just how deeply he felt for Shepard after they’d both died. Of course he’d be pulled back to life just minutes after realizing she felt the same. And  _ OF COURSE _ he’d return to the afterlife only after Shepard had managed to find an escape herself. Why had he ever even bothered to hope for something better?

How long he stayed curled up on the back porch, he wasn’t quite sure. Not that it really mattered. He’d spend eternity here. And since Cerberus apparently had the ability to raise humans from the dead now, he’d probably be spending it alone.

When he lifted his head again, the sun had long since set. An ocean of stars shimmered brightly in the navy and violet sky. Mechanically, he rose to his feet--half wanting his muscles to cry out in protest because then at least something else would hurt too--and went inside. The screen door slapped shut behind him, bouncing once before going silent.

Garrus actually looked around the kitchen now. An unwashed plate rested next to the sink. A red checkered towel was hung to dry over the back of a chair. An open bottle of whisky sat next to a single glass on the table. Evidence of this place’s previous occupant, the last traces of who should have been here too. Unwilling to notice much more at the moment, he grabbed the whisky from the table and left the kitchen, heading deeper into the house.

By the time he reached the bedrooms, a goodly portion of the whisky was already gone. He stopped outside of the door that led to the room he’d first slept in.  _ ‘I know what a turian bed looks like, Garrus.’ _ Logically, he couldn’t blame himself for hesitating when he saw Shepard on Omega, but he was going to anyway. Lost time, lost time, how dare he have wasted even a single second when she was around and within reach? He took another long pull from the bottle, hating how the pungent flavors burst in his mouth, and then turned away from the door, heading for the room at the other end of the hall.

The door creaked on its hinges when he pushed it open. He stood outside the doorway for a few more seconds, scouring what he could see of her room from this vantage. The bed was made with military precision, the corners of the faded quilt folded so neatly it would make any drill sergeant proud to see it. A metal fan in the corner oscillated leisurely, skipping a few times as it reached the far left of its pattern.

Taking a breath, Garrus crossed the threshold and stepped into the space. Though there was plenty of room to maneuver, he felt the wrong scale for the room. Both too large and not enough all at the same time. Careful not to disturb anything, he sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand across the fabric worn perfectly soft from use. One last pull and he finished the bottle of whisky. He reached to set it on the bedside table, only noticing then that he was putting the empty bottle next to one exactly like it. 

It’d been in this very room, this very bed when he was ripped from Shepard’s arms and forcibly returned to life. And while he hadn’t remembered it, the experience had obviously been scarring enough that this place was all his subconscious mind could think about. A terrible, terrible thought then crossed his mind--did she have to bury him? Or was he just instantaneously gone? Both options were gruesome and horrifying in their own rights. Oh Shepard, I’m so sorry, he thought silently as he brushed fingertips across the other bottle.

He pulled back the blankets on the bed and laid down on his side, wanting to sleep mostly because he knew it would pass the time. If he pressed his face into the pillow, he could still smell her--floral and clean. Giving into impulse, he grabbed the pillow from the other side of the bed and curled up around it. A very poor substitute, but it was all he had. Slowly, Garrus let his eyes fall shut, feeling keenly just how long eternity could be.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I built the 'australian' house in Sims 4. It can be found in the gallery under the hashtags #australianfarmhouse or #shakarian. Thanks for reading! <3, Kaitlyn


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